


Altered Trajectory

by runrarebit



Series: Altered Trajectory [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy wants to be a good brother, Contemplation, F/M, M/M, Masculinity, Obliviously interested in Steve Harrington Billy Hargrove, Season 03, Themes of Domestic Violence, contemplation of various sex acts some of which involve Karen Wheeler, dead!Billy trying to fix things, even if he doesn't realise it, kind of time travel I guess, navel gazing, neil hargrove is a bad man, obliviously bisexual Billy Hargrove, some mention of racism, the possibility of a fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 09:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19765609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runrarebit/pseuds/runrarebit
Summary: Billy's plot in season 03 gets derailed by Billy, but not Billy. Not this Billy at least. Also he thinks about his life a bit because yay! navel gazing.





	Altered Trajectory

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: for a tiny bit of text that could be taken as something in the region of suicidal ideation. Also some mentions of racism.
> 
> This is not what I am supposed to be doing, or what I meant to be doing. I am supposed to be working on original fic- yet here we are. I won't promise I'll write any more of this, but I sat down to be productive and this happened instead, so I thought I might as well post it in case anyone finds it interesting. Thank you all in advance for reading! I hope you're all having a good week!

He fucking loves being lifeguard at the dinky little Hawkins pool. It’s not just the power, though the power feels good, it’s the sun and the water and memories of California, but also making sure everyone stays safe. Being able to make a difference. He likes the way they look at him too— the guys full of envy, the girls full of want. The _women_ too. He’s got a plan, yes he has. A plan for later.

There’s something weirdly satisfying in thinking about sticking his dick in Nancy fucking Wheeler’s mother. Not that it’s— whatever. Like, that’s disrespectful and shit and he doesn’t want to be disrespectful— well, not to Karen Wheeler. ‘Cause she’s nice and all. Smoking fucking hot. Not just even _hot for an older woman_. She’s just _hot_. Fucking better looking than her daughter— and who can even believe that Harrington let his life fucking self-destruct for that frigid looking prissy little cheater? That’s right, isn’t it? That’s what that dick Tommy said. Nancy fucking Wheeler cheated on Harrington and he just took it like a good little Christian girl takes it up the ass ‘cause she still wants to wear white on her wedding day.

For a moment he wonders if he could do Karen Wheeler up to ass— but that makes him feel kinda weird. She’s like— mom age— not exactly his mom’s age, because she was like twenty five when Neil finally got her knocked up and pinned down, but like the age of a mom who could be his if she had him when she was eighteen or whatever. Karen Wheeler’s young mom age. If feels wrong to do someone’s mom up the ass.

Why is he even thinking of doing someone up the ass? That’s not what he’s after. It’d be enough to just eat her out for a bit, maybe get her to jerk him off. She seems lonely. Her home life’s obviously not doing it for her and neither is that old fart husband of hers— how did a woman like that, a woman as sexy as that, end up with such a boring old bastard? Same story as always probably. He was the best thing this shit-hole town had to offer.

Still, yeah. It’s not like part of him isn’t wondering if she fucks like her daughter, and there’s some shit in there, some stuff about whether that makes him like Harrington if he gets all up inside her, that he doesn’t want to think about too close. Like the week or so after— just _after_ , when he’s dragged himself off the floor all fucked up and fucking out of it on whatever it was in that _syringe_ — when he kept jerking it desperately to the thought of fucking Wheeler. Nancy. Like some flash-fire fucking _obsession_. He’s glad that disappeared real quick. Even if was catching her swapping spit with that Byers loser that did it. Fucking gross. Like he wants that creep’s leftovers.

He’s got a plan, yeah. He knows she’s looking at him, Karen, her and the other, less-hot older women, and he knows she wants him, and he knows she’s got almost nothing standing in the way of having him— other than whatever obligation she feels to a family that seems to treat her nowhere near as good as a woman like that deserves to be treated. A nice woman. A _kind_ woman. The kind of woman who would never abandon her kid just because the man she was cheating on her husband with didn’t want to have to take care of someone else’s brat and things with the dickhole she’d married had reached the point where it was getting pretty clear it was a matter of life and death and it wasn’t her head she wanted on the chopping block. He gets it. He does. Doesn’t mean he’s not _bitter_ though— and he wants her to have him. Him to _have_ her. And he’s got the place to do the having all scoped out, on the edge of town, clean, but nowhere anyone _respectable_ is likely to see them So. Yeah. All he needs to do is issue the invite.

She’s got such sexy eyes. That nice warm brown he likes. He’s had a real thing for girls with brown eyes recently, and dark hair— hers is dark naturally, he knows, even if she’s taken to lightening it. He liked it better when it was darker. He bets her pubes are real dark though— weird the things a guy likes. Like, that’s what his eyes are getting drawn to when he’s flicking through his skin mags looking for something to jerk it to. Dark, doe eyes and dark hair. He used to like blondes. Surfer chicks. Must be the change in scenery. Sex drive switching lanes from bronzed, blonde Californian babes to chicks with hair and eyes the same rich brown as the trunks of Hawkins trees in winter.

Without the creep factor though. Hawkins any other time than under the cleansing glow of the mid-summer sun has this weird vibe, something kind of sinister— It’s actually the perfect little shit-hole town for his dad if he thinks about it. The whole place is like Neil— seems nice and normal on the surface but whatever’s underneath is off. Not right. Maybe not quite as fucking _psycho_ as the old man— but still. Dysfunctional. Trying too hard to seem ok.

Fucking gas leaks and kids running around with syringes full of tranquilizer or whatever. He still doesn’t know what Harrington was up to with Max and the other little shitheads. Something creepy he’d guess. Still, he’s kept his word and left the guy alone. He figures if the prick does ever make a move on Max or any of her shitty little friends she’ll probably nail _him_ in the balls with that bat. Not that he wants to admit it but he’s kind of— something. Proud of her maybe. She’s a real cool chick. It’s getting pretty clear she’s the type who knows how to hold her own, isn’t going to let the boys talk their way into her knickers.

He might have been kind of worried about her. Especially since she took up with that Sinclair kid out of all available options and his dad was going to take one look at that situation and—

Maybe he should have a talk with her anyway, make sure she knows how not to end up with a kid just in case her and her boyfriend end up in the on-again phase of their on-again off-again long enough for things to— They’re still kids, yeah? But, like, he knows what guys are like. He also knows what _girls_ are like. No matter what anyone says they can be just as eager, only they have to wear the consequences, and maybe that’s not something she’s thinking about. It’s pretty shitty if you ask him— like, he’s pretty sure that’s how his dad ended up trapping his mom. That’s why he’s always careful. Condoms even if she says she’s on birth control. He doesn’t want to risk ending up just like Neil.

Anyway, not the point. The point is Max deserves better than whatever his dear old dad will do if she pops out a black baby. Probably kill her to be honest. If she’s lucky throw her out, and it won’t matter how much Susan fucking mewls at him, all that will happen is she’ll get a black eye and Max will end up out with the garbage. He doubts Sinclair’s parents will take her in if that does happen so it’ll end up being up to him— which will mean going against the old bastard which is—

He’s not scared of his dad. He’s not a _pussy_. Still, thought makes him feel kinda sick.

But that’s what he’s working for, isn’t it? To get out of here. Get his own place— since he won’t be going to college after all. He’s got the grades for it but didn’t even bother applying. Fucking Neil made sure he knew a long fucking time ago that the man wasn’t going to pay for it, what the man thinks of all those _college educated pansies that wouldn’t know a day of real work if it bit them in the ass_ , that no son of his was going to— anyway. Not like he would have gotten any of those scholarships even if he did apply.

Fucking Harrington though. That rich he could afford to go anywhere, make something of himself, and instead he just blows it— He heard from Tommy and Carol that the prick is working at an ice cream shop in the mall. Wearing some dumb fucking sailor suit and everything— like, the hell? Why? Fucking spoilt little rich kid, doesn’t understand the real world. Apparently he looks like a complete loser. _Is_ a complete loser— that’s one thing he agrees with Tommy on. Carol had said something about him looking kind of cute, but Tommy had shouted at her and he wasn’t interested in listening to their endless bullshit so he’d gone to refill his cup and find a girl to dance with— maybe a bit more than dance.

The girl had ended up being Kathy Turner. Shoulder length brown hair with a bit of a wave, big brown eyes, wearing this dark blue and white stripy dress all kind of _nautical_ — She’d ended up blowing him in Tommy’s bathroom and then letting him finger her until she came with this cute little squeak. 

Both of those assholes are going to college too. The _same_ college of course. The two of them partying like the world is ending before they leave Hawkins— possible for good if they know what’s good for them— like they’re not just going to continue partying through college and waste their chance at a real education and the prospect of making something of themselves— but they’re spoilt little rich kids too, so fuck ‘em.

He knows he’s gotta give up. That he’d going to end up bitter and twisted and a failure like Neil, that he was born to fail, that there’s no bright and beautiful future waiting for him— but it’s so fucking hard to stop wanting something better. He wonders if Susan’s told Max yet that she’s not going to college either— even if Neil didn’t think tertiary education was a complete waste of time there’s no way his dad would be on board with a _girl_ getting any—

Fuck, he’s pissing himself off. Gotta think about something else. Think about Karen Wheeler. Yeah. Yeah—

Fuck, look at her out there, moving through the water like that. Maybe now’s the time to put that plan into action—

She seems into it. Hesitating, because she wants to believe she’s the kind of woman who wouldn’t step out on her marriage no matter how unhappy she is— but she is unhappy, and it’s not like he’s asking her to run away with him. Just come to Motel 6 and have a few private “swimming lessons” that’s all— and he’s got her. He knows he’s got her. It’s exciting—

Yeah, real exciting. Just as long as he ignores that little twinge of something bitter.

He’s got himself pumped for it again later when he’s driving to the motel. Speeding, of course, ‘cause who fucking cares even if he does crash? It’d be better that way, wouldn’t it? Live fast, die young, don’t get old and miserable like the sack of shit that sired him— He’s not going to crash though. He’s got somewhere to be.

It’s gonna be so _sweet_. He’s going to touch her so nice, get her wet for him, get her off, make it so they can both forget the shitty trajectory of their shitty lives for the night. He’s rehearsing it, both in his head and out loud, what he’ll say to her. Imagining all the things they’ll do together—

Then all fucking hell breaks loose.

He’s crashing and there’s slime and then something’s grabbing him and dragging him and at this point he’s not even fucking thinking he’s fighting, fighting like the way he always told himself he’d do if his dad ever took it too far, if it looked like it was really his head on the chopping block, and then he’s free and in his car and driving and—

He sees it. Phone box. He’s gotta call the cops, whatever it was grabbed him— he’s gotta tell someone. Something needs to be done about it. Foot on the break and—

_‘No you fucking **don’t**.’_

He’s standing on the side of the road beside his car with no memory of stopping. In front of him is— _him?_

_‘Not this time,’_ the other him is saying, angry frown on his face. He looks _wrecked_ , this other self. Blood— that’s blood, isn’t it? Blood all over him. Fucking black— he doesn’t even know what that is, that black stuff, but black stuff and blood and it’s obvious he’s hurt, he’s holding himself like he’s hurt, but he’s also holding himself tense and still and muscles quivering. Angry. He looks angry. He looks _mean_. He looks like his dad. For a split second he wonders if he looked like this before he beat the shit out of Harrington— but he doesn’t ever let himself think about doing that. Hurting the other boy like that— because Harrington’s not like him, Harrington’s not fucked up like he is, Harrington’s— and there’s guilt and what’s the point of guilt, useless fucking emotion, but— Harrington’s—

Harrington’s not important.

What’s important is the other him, still speaking. _‘This time you’re getting out of here, you get me you ass? You’re getting out of here. You’re not doing this again. You’re not helping that fucking **monster** kill all those people— Heather. You’re not going to help it try and kill that kid, Max, all of them. Everything. Fucking **Harrington**_. _You’re just not—’_

‘What’s happening?’ he finds himself asking. ‘Who are you? What do you _want_?’

The other him laughs, bitter. _‘It’s too late for what I want, but you— don’t ask me how this works, but you’ve got a chance. I’ve been given a chance to fix it. Not for me, but you— fuck, it doesn’t matter. I can’t even begin to explain it, but you gotta— you gotta find Max, or that kid, or one of them. Wheeler maybe? Byers? Harrington I think, but I don’t really know. You gotta find one of them and you gotta— you tell them that the— the— the gate is open. It’s under the mall— kind of, but close enough. The gate is open and the Mind Flayer is out, ok? You tell them that—’_

‘What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense—’

The other him grunts in frustration. ‘ _Fuck it, just—’_

He opens his eyes. He’s on the ground, inside the steel works where he’s always been, never even made it outside, and something’s wrapped around his ankle, something’s dragging him. He can’t move. He keeps trying to struggle, to grab at something, to anything and he can’t move—

And then it hurts. Chest hurts. Fucking run through, dying, dead, and he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry— and he wants her to forgive him, Max, but he doesn’t even know if she can hear him, if he’s even speaking, if he’s not dead already, and then it all unspools inside of him, all the _memories._ Everything he’s _done_. And—

‘ ** _Not this time_**.’ His mouth moves but he’s not the one moving it.

There’s— he’s— what’s—

His body is moving, twisting, writhing in ways it should be able to, and it’s like he’s a passenger inside as it twists its way out of the grip on his ankle and gets up and runs, runs, runs, and the thing follows, but he’s faster and he has no idea how he’s faster, and this time he really is in his car, really is driving, flooring it, racing through the darkened streets of Hawkins and—

Later he is himself, just _himself_ again. Sitting in his car in the woods at the opposite side of town. Panting. Heat on as high as he can get it. Hands wandering his own flesh, searching for injuries he doesn’t have. Head full of memories that aren’t his. What the fuck? _What the fuck_?

What’s he supposed to do now?

_Find Max, or that kid, or one of them. Wheeler. Byers. Harrington. Gate. Mind Flayer._


End file.
